Saturday, March 30, 2013

A Plugged Up Inelegant Blob

I can't tell you how many times since I last posted here I've sat
down and tried to come up with something worth reading. And each time it
sounds more and more like my old Live Journal feed. Just a diary of
what's going on in my life, rather than what BOL was supposed to be; something
with meaning and maybe a little flair. Write-y rather than "here's
what I did today".

I
think the problem is that there is so much in my head right now. There IS
so much going on that is affecting me as a person, changing me, pissing me off
and breaking my heart and shaping me and when I try to funnel it from my brain
to my fingers to BOL it clogs up, then squirts out in a big,
very inelegant blob.

I'm
plugged up.

So maybe the
solution is to take off the lid, clean out the spout, empty it all out and
start over. You, my friend, have fallen
into that process. Prepare to be
unimpressed. I’m about to overshare in a
very stream-of-consciousness kind of way that will probably leave many of you
scratching your head and saying “who cares?”.
But those of you who have asked when I’m going to start writing again,
you know who you are, you take your chances on what you get when I lift the lid
on my life like this.

The first
thing I think of as far as what’s going on with me right now is…well…FUCKING
OW. I have tendinitis in my foot (Yes,
it’s spelled that way. Even though it’s
an inflammation of the tendOn….with an O…when you make it an ‘itis’ it gets an
I…stupid language) which first of all has me in so much pain I can hardly see
straight. It’s sucking up a good portion
of my brain power. It’s bad. This teeny-tiny little tendon on the outside
of my right foot, between mid-foot and pinky toe, is running and RUINING my life
right now. I’ve had to start wearing
sneakers to work (this requires a doctor’s note and an act of congress), park
in the visitor’s parking space (I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell for this),
stop going to the gym and to church (just because both are too much
walking). I go to work, I go home, I
make the quickest, easiest dinner possible, and I sit with my foot elevated and iced until bedtime. That’s my routine and I FUCKING
HATE IT.

By the time
my mom was my age she had an illegally-obtained handicap permit hanging in her
car, she didn't work but she had a cleaning lady. She used the motorized cart at the grocery
store and she didn't cook. My dad did everything for her due to her physical
limitations, some real and some perceived, all caused by her morbid obesity.

Perhaps because of how she was, incapable of or unwilling to do anything for herself, asking everything of others, I have a
really REALLY hard time asking for help.
It is killing me to have to ask The Boy to take me to the grocery store,
drop me at the door, meet me inside and run and fetch items for me. I nearly broke down in tears last week when I
had to ask him to take the dogs to get their toenails cut. I do NOT want this for him.

My boss is encouraging me to talk to my foot
doctor about getting a temporary handicap permit so that I can park in the
handicap spot rather than one of our only two visitor’s spots. I know this makes perfect logical sense. I know it would help in the healing process
if I didn't have to park in BFE and walk everywhere I go. I know I might be healed already if I could
just limit my walking. But I also know
it goes against everything I believe, everything I want to be, to be 47 years
old, have all my limbs and be parking in a handicap parking space.

I’m getting
physical therapy once a week, seeing the foot doctor every second Tuesday. I go back in three days.

So yeah,
FUCKING OW.

Changing
gears.

I’m not a Beachbody
Coach anymore. I’ve started to write
about that probably six times and I’m struggling with finding a way to say what
I’m thinking without sounding like I’m bad-mouthing the company or the other
coaches. I’m having a hard time making
it come out right. For now I have to do
some day-job stuff, and this is long enough already. So maybe I’ll tackle that tomorrow.

I feel a
little bit un-plugged.Not in the MTV
acoustic guitar way.More in inelegant
blob way.